An Epiphany

Last night someone asked me why I don't believe in soul mates. The answer is simple: If there is such a thing as one perfect person for each of us, or a "twin soul," then I've already found mine. What's the point of continuing the search for something you already have? Except I don't HAVE it. I did have it, once upon a time, but he's getting married in November. If I believe in soul mates - in the truest sense - then I will spend the rest of my life alone, always pining for what was once within my grasp. I am not that nihilistic.
I once believed that maybe there exists a variation of soul mates, which would allow that there are multiple people with whom we could easily share a fate. I came to this conclusion as a result of having loved very deeply a second time. But believing in multiple soul mates is also problematic. How do we decide what the appropriate number is? Could anyone be a soul mate if you happen to meet them at the right time and in the right place? Or are there certain mystical connections necessary to form that kind of attachment? How does one "prove" or "disprove" whether their partner is a soul mate?
I don't know what to believe anymore. I opened my heart twice; each time I was hurt so thoroughly that I've not yet begun recovering from either. The most recent was a year ago, and that wound still aches like a stubborn brain cancer. At least I have some temporal and geographical distance from my first love. I can look a that more objectively sometimes. But this past one throbs to my core.
I feel like a 28-year-old divorcee. I can't imagine ever loving someone that way again. Not because I don't want to, but I don't know if I'll be capable. I can't fathom having to face that pain all over again, feeding off the unhealed wounds of the past, torturing my dreams and waking life. Some people say they feel a void when they face loss. Where my void should be, there is nothing but pain. Sometimes I feel like it's my fault.
Not because of anything I did or didn't do. There's no sense in mourning events of the past. I was brought up believing that love is forever, unconditional, enduring and fulfilling. Sean Connery once said "I can't love people in slices." That's exactly how I feel. When it comes to people I let into my heart, it's all or nothing. And sadly it's not interchangeable. I can't force it to become nothing once it has been everything. And so I love people with very fibre of my being. But that isn't enough.
My first love still loves me, but he chose a different path. My second love hurt me so deeply that I cannot be with him in the foreseeable future. What is it about me that does not inspire those I love to reciprocate in the way that I deserve? Why does it seem like too much to ask for others to love me to the same depth that I love them? In this way, my pain is my own fault. Because I loved people who either could not or would not live up to my expectations (I tend to think it's the latter; if I'm capable of this kind of love, surely I must not be alone in that capacity. This means that they refuse to reciprocate on the same level).
I don't really know how to move forward. All I understand right now is to be stuck in the past. Maybe it's because the future is frightening to me in almost every way. I may eventually meet someone and think about loving again. Will I be able to move beyond the past? If I can, will he disappoint me as the others did?

To Toss, or not to Toss: that is my dilemma

I'm cleaning up my area of the house, one section at a time. After finally finished all the laundry, I'm now trying to get rooms tidied and organized before school starts on Thursday. Considering I've been doing absolutely nothing for over a week I think this is an excellent use of my remaining freedom before Fall starts.
The problem is that I'm rather hormonal and I keep running into things that were either Mike's, or stuff we acquired together. He left a lot when he moved out. Some of it is useful and some isn't. I use the dressers, couches, bookshelves, and kitchen supplies regularly. But our matching lamps and random knick-knacks - and his clothes still mixed with mine - is getting upsetting to come across. It's like a constant reminder of what I used to have, all the things that went wrong, the final catalyst that broke us up, and the attempted recovery of my shattered heart.
I feel like I need to move out of this house, to distance myself from space that Mike and I enjoyed together, but that's not possible. Anywhere we move to will not have the kind of space and privacy which Mom and I get here for this price. And I doubt many landlords would accept a tenant with the amount of cats we have.
It just really hurts when I think about things. Mostly it hurts me to think about how lonely I am now that I'm single again. Mike and I broke up, then Steff moved out. I spend most of my time by myself surrounded by memories of good times long past, and bad times that made the good times stop. It's indescribably painful.

The Timeline.

We broke up on November 20. That's nearly two months ago. I'm not going to sugar coat how I feel; I'm completely devastated. Because despite all our problems I never doubted my dedication to "us." It never occurred to me that he would be capable of such an intense level of malicious deceit that it would end our relationship. I knew he was immature, selfish, and ruled by his emotional baggage... but I actually believed when he said I was the top priority in his life. I defended him to other people; I stood up to friends and family who told me I'd be better off without him. But I was completely wrong about him. He has even less control over himself than I had initially thought.

The past two months have been spent trying to remove these greyscale glasses so that I can see my rainbow again. I know it's there, waiting for me, just outside of reach. And it will wait for me to heal, but it is also saddened by my lack of attention. I feel robotic most days, going through the motions of life while lacking any real joy that used to be mine. I don't regret the time I spent with Mike, nor the happiness we shared, but I wish I didn't have to go through such an intense period of grief & mourning. Furthermore, in addition to mourning a devastating loss, I'm also being forced to be responsible for myself financially. This persuasion into adulthood is daunting. It was long overdue but it's still difficult. Compounded with the fact that I don't know what to do with my future, I'm going through a really difficult transitional phase that just plain SUCKS.

The world is not its normal shades of beautiful these days. It is precarious in its beauty; too fragile to be in any way reliable for more than a few moments at a time. One moment everything is grey, and in the next I see a hint of colour on the horizon. But which colour appears depends greatly on my mood, which has become less and less stable over the past week. Bright, flaming red is a common colour for me now. Either that or a deep blue. But mostly I see grey in seemingly endless waves. That spark of faith in humanity that I once had has been repeatedly stabbed and raped. I'm tired of feeling this way; I want my rainbow back.

But my rainbow is hidden beneath clouds of grief and despair. My fiance made some extremely poor decisions this past summer, involving one of his closest female friends, which has left me feeling shattered and faithless. Too many things went wrong. First, several of our friends knew about this before I did. Second, he outright LIED to me about the number of times it happened (which I had to hear from HER). Third, he couldn't conceive the notion that he should halt communication with her after everything came out in the open. Fourth, he hasn't been giving me the space I NEED to work through my anger. And fifth, he's trying to put some of the blame on me.

I will tackle these points one by one.

1. I should have been the third to know (after the two involved). The fact that Mike only told me because he was given an ultimatum by our room mate is absolutely disgusting. It proves what I've been thinking about him avoiding his emotional issues and not taking responsibility for his actions. That was evidence of immaturity to the highest degree.

2. Lying to me about the amount of times (he said once, she said 3 or 4) again shows extreme immaturity. It means that he was only going to tell me the bare minimum to keep me from finding out the full truth. I can only infer that he either intended to keep pursuing her or that he refused to take full responsibility for what happened. Maybe both. Either way is unacceptable.

3. I was hoping that he would be adult enough to realize that he should no longer be talking to her. I would think that point should be fairly obvious. The fact that he did not catch on shows his level of emotional immaturity, and also makes me think that he wanted to pursue his relationship with her behind my back. It shows selfishness and a lack of compassion for how I am feeling.

4. He claims he's been giving me space. I sent him away for a couple of months while I try to come to terms with what happened. But calling and texting me all day everyday is NOT space. He doesn't seem to realize that the more he contacts me, the less inclined I am to forgive him. He is relying on me to make him feel better about things. How can I heal when all my energy is being zapped by having to constantly talk to him?

5. He says he's taken full responsibility for what happened. He really isn't doing that. The other night he had the nerve to say to me "You should really examine what is wrong in our relationship that made me NEED to go outside of it." Nope, that right there is evidence that he is trying to shift some blame onto me. That is absolutely, unequivocally unacceptable.

If our relationship was really good and fulfilling for both of us prior to this happening, I would probably have forgiven him by now. But the underlying fact that is our relationship has been seriously defective for a long time. From where I'm sitting, most of the problems relate to his level of emotional immaturity. Of course he would disagree. He seems to think that he fucked another girl because I was not supportive or affectionate enough. But why would that be the case? I think it's because he's hurt me so many other times, in other ways, that I was subconsciously distancing myself from him. There have been so many things I have had to overlook in our relationship over the years; I think they began accumulating in my subconscious mind.

So neither of us are happy with the way things are, and how they were before this separation. In my eyes, I have a whole lot of grieving to do. He has a LOT of growing up to do. I'm pessimistic that he will be able to do it. If he isn't, there's no way we will be able to work things out. He has fucked up so many times. I will probably be willing to give him another chance, but it will most likely be the last one.

After all, there are only so many colours of the rainbow.

There's a fire on TV...

WARNING: girl stuff will be discussed.

Yesterday I had such a stupid girlie episode, it actually made me feel ill. I'm not normally the type to do stupid, irrational things like most chicks. I like to think I'm a bit more reasonable, logical and sane. But I couldn't help myself yesterday. It all just kind of blew up in my face. One little thing set me off, and I turned into bitchzilla. And the most frustrating part was that I sat back and watched myself do it, without being able to stop it. I'm never that out of control during the hormonal times of the month. Usually I can keep tabs on myself by purposely watching a sappy movie and having a crying fit; that almost always gets it out.

It was just... so overwhelming. I got upset, and tried to keep it in. Then I got mad at myself for being upset, and started crying. Then I got mad because I was so mad I was crying, and the cycle continues. But not only was I feeling emotional, I was acting that way too. I tried to warn Mike away but he's too persistent sometimes. He really needs to learn when I just need to be left alone... if not for my sake, then for his. Usually when I know I'm going to be that dramatic I'll stay away from people. I'd rather not bite his head off when it isn't actually his fault.

I once read somewhere that PMS is a psychological thing, and I would like to heatedly debate that topic with that unknown person. I bet it was a man who said it. Men just don't understand the kind of shit that women go through. I'm not ignorant of the fact that men have their own set of problems, but I'm also not ignorant enough to claim I understand them. From what I DO understand, men's issues tend to be socially based. Women have that too, but we also have the physical problems.

Here's a bit of a rant.

Periods. GAH. Bleeding for anywhere between 3 to 7 days per month. Having to deal with maxipads and tampons. Being constantly afraid that you will leak all over your pants and make a social mockery of yourself. I hear some women have odour problems. The ups and downs of the bleeding cycle: heavy, medium and light flow days. If you don't use tampons, you can't go swimming. Tampons are actually pretty unhealthy for the body but are convenient in other ways except application. Then there's the PAIN... having to suck down Tylenol like it's being discontinued. Cramps that take over your abdomen, radiate down your legs and up your back. Feeling constantly drained of energy from blood loss and painkillers. Breasts swelling and becoming painfully tender. Possibly retaining water. Craving all the wrong foods and not being satisfied with salad or healthy alternatives. And the best part... most men won't even touch you when you're bleeding, like it's some kind of physical taboo... with the irony that some women get incredibly horny at that time. It's ludicrous.

I've always found that my hormonal stage occurs just before my monthly inconvenience, and maybe a day or two into it. So I know when it's coming if I'm feeling irrationally emotional. Men complain about the hormone surges, but most of the time we can't always help it. Some have managed to control it, or at least recognize the warning signs, but in the end it's ruled by a bodily system that does not take orders from the rational brain. It can be compared to morning wood or teenage wet dreams... it's just something that may or may not happen randomly at semi-predictable times.

I could go on to other girlie issues, but I'm rather tired from the blood loss.

Beauty in the Darkness

I found two of my Australian friends on Facebook yesterday. I haven't talked to either of them for a couple of years (going on six actually). It really made me happy to get back in touch. Simple pleasures are the best things in life.

Life is a funny thing isn't it? So many ups and downs. I was telling Scott the other day that I would prefer if my life had gone a bit more smoothly thus far. He was quick to point out that everything that has happened has shaped who I am now. He's quite right, as usual. I'm not saying I crave an idyllic life... but there are some things I could definitely have missed out on, without losing sleep over it. In fact I would have had countless better nights' sleep had they not occurred at all.

People always tell me the things they love about me, such as my creativity, easy going-ness, and caring nature. These are definitely positive attributes for anyone, but they also affect me negatively. Not because of the implicit nature of these characteristics, but because of the social nature of my surroundings. I often wonder if I wasn't meant for this world.

Creativity has always been one of my strong suits, whether it be music, photography, painting, drawing, fashion, etc. But I often feel like a phoney walking around with an artist's outer shell; I have a REALLY hard time coming up with my own original ideas most of the time. This began when I started taking medication for depression and anxiety. Eleven years later, still taking these pills, I can't help but feel like there's a cloud in my brain blocking out my artistic receptors. However I place higher value on mental stability than the potential side effect of creative ideas which may or may not be sharpened by eliminating the medication.

My easy going nature has made social situations much more bearable for the people in my life, I'm sure, but it doesn't do much for me when others are uptight. I've been criticized more than once for "not giving a rat's ass" or being unresponsive to 'hostility' in the name of passion. If there's one thing I've learned from years of therapy, it's how to let things go. There are certain major things from my past which I still hang on to, but anything new that pops up is much more easily forgiven. In short, I've learned to pick and choose my battles (PMS is sometimes an exception). There are certain things which are just not worth getting upset about. That is something I carry with me a LOT when Mike and I argue/fight. I think a good 75% of our fights are unnecessary. Most of the time when I get upset during an argument, it's because he's reacting poorly (in my opinion) to a situation, or he's been drinking. He accuses me of not understanding his side of things. The problem is that I do understand; I just don't see the point in prolonging and exacerbating the issue. I have a very typically male mindset with fights: let's find a reasonable solution as quickly as possible to end hostilities. I don't think that's a bad thing.

My caring nature is my biggest weakness of all. The really sad part is that it shouldn't be considered a weakness... those two words shouldn't be together in the same sentence. This is a vicious circle with no beginning or end, and it makes me sad everyday. I care a great deal for the people in my life. My family is top priority, and my friends are my second family. I've made a good deal of friends over the years, and I keep in touch with most of them (some more regularly than others). But my caring doesn't stop there. I truly care about all living things on earth, and I will defend that to the death. I honestly get nauseous when I hear about animal cruelty. I watched a film on the Rwandan genocide a few weeks ago and it made me bawl my eyes out. Whenever I hear stories of child hunger, mass poverty, government corruption, war, torture and exploitation... I just want to crawl in a hole and forget that I belong to the human race. I care too much, and it has made me overly sensitive to the evils of this world. I believe this sensitivity is partially responsible for my ongoing anxiety... as Scott always tells me, I think too much. I guess anthropology was a bad discipline to choose. But because I genuinely care about people, and the world, and the future of the human race, it has left me mentally and emotionally drained a lot of the time. I often need to sleep after sitting through an anthropology class. It's too much suffering to handle for one small person.

In the grand tradition of irony (definition: an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected), I am home sick on the first week back from the WUFA strike. I've been extra tired in the last few days; I had [falsely] assumed it was the changing of the seasons that had me run down. Alas, it turns out I was fighting off this sickness. It's not as brutal as those I have had in the past, but it's enough to knock me on my ass. I've got my fingers crossed that this is a 24 hour thing and will soon depart my system.

I got to see TIME play at the pub on friday. It was an amazing show, as always. I was more than a little surprised that the crowd thinned out after Stereo Goes Stellar... they are an awesome band, but TIME was headlining, and they are WAY more killer than SGS. Maybe I'm just biased; I am friends with TIME and am also their unofficial photographer. Even before that, when I knew the guys but wouldn't really call them 'friends' per se, they still totally blew my mind. I remember my first time seeing them play...

It was about a year ago, and the pub. My camera was being stupid, so I borrowed Steff's awesome digicam to take some pictures. I stood in front of the stage, leaning against that one pillar which is blocky and uncomfortable, and is a visual major hindrance for anyone sitting behind it. I asked Tyrone if it would bother them to have a camera flashing right at them. He introduced me to Pat, the bassist, and they both assured me it was fine. Once they started playing, I was awestruck. Each guitar lick entranced me, the lyrics hypnotized me... their movements were so fluid I couldn't take my eyes off them. Not only were they excellent performers, but the quality of their music blew my mind. I bought one of their t-shirts that night.

Now it's been a year. I have made it to a good 75% of their shows (except for out of town dealies and nights when I was either sick or had Pi Lam events). I've taken hundreds of photos of them. Some of my favourites are the really abstract ones, with motion blur and unique colours from the spotlights. I've also enjoyed some localized popularity; I've had about half a dozen random people approach me and tell me they love my work. Not to mention being published three times (twice in The Lance and once in a downtown social newspaper). Of course it's mutually beneficial. The TIME boys get press coverage, and I get to cling to their bandwagon, figuratively speaking. That's okay with me. When they are rich and famous, maybe they'll cut me a check. :)

I've been extending my artistic abilities to other fields. I've been a painter for a few years now (albeit I'm not as good at painting as I am with a camera), and I just finished a labour intensive wood working project for my Pi Lam boys. I believe I've mentioned this project before, so I will not go into redundant details (REDUNDANT!). Suffice to say, it was completed at about 60 hours of work (which is roughly one hour per pound it weighs) and is now carefully padlocked in place on the fireplace mantle in their house.

I can look at the project and see each and every flaw in it. There are places where I should have sanded more carefully, and other spots where I painted over hairs. The mirror could have been polished better. But the guys didn't see any of those flaws when it was unveiled; they whooped and hollered wildly. Upon reflection, I believe the flaws I see are simply part of a greater infliction of self-doubt, which nearly every person goes through at some point or other. Why is it that humans are naturally so self-conscious? I must ponder this question carefully.